The Black Night

By Syed Noha Farooq

It was a windy night,

The doors rattled and windows shook.

The curtains of white played along too,

As he lay curled up on his bed.

He shivered slightly,

his toes uncovered.

His body thin and frail,

Knew nothing of the black shadows.

Every night, a silent prayer 

Often passed thin lips like a murmur.

Moist eyes soaking his cheeks,

Who knew what he asked for!

Every night for a 100 nights,

Had he slept this way.

No jewels of life had he,

His pearl and gold got scattered away.

An empty pot and a dirty plate,

Half eaten bread now stale.

A handful of grains in a mud cup,

A pot of water to quench his thirst.

A tiny room no visitor would desire,

Dreaded with misery, hope and hunger.

Dirt filled corners of the empty space,

Much friendly to the rats and roaches.

Cold wind blew inside the creeks,

Shattered glass allowed them in.

He dint fight back when they threw the stones,

Blood tricked down his feet.

This night was different however,

No wolves howled, no owl hooted.

Silent his soul lay,

The night quieter than ever.

The whistling of the wind knew it’s destiny,

A quiet knock on the door.

No rush to open, 

Time had passed.

A quiet grip and a soft gulp,

A quick but painful moan.

His body twitched then relaxed,

Fingers clasping his own.

Noone to comfort or stroke his hair,

No soul to feed his lips.

His gaze fixed on the tumbler of water,

His head rolled gently to a side.

Life went by all in a flash,

Like the reels of a camera in his head.

Fond memories of childhood took time to fade,

It was time to step up ahead.

A look to the horizon,

Clear and bright.

None of this world far and wide,

Eternal home waited with open gates.

The soul passed on,

His body lay cold.

He was finally free,

A hundred nights of pain ended blissfully.

By Syed Noha Farooq